


The Man in the Leather Jacket

by blahrandomblah



Category: Sterek - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Protective!Derek, asthmatic!stiles, sciles brotp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahrandomblah/pseuds/blahrandomblah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles grew up without his parents. He was passed around from family member to family member until he was finally adopted. Throughout his life, there was always one person who seemed inexplicably capable of calming him down. (Based off of a tumblr prompt for orphan!stiles with asthma on top of his panic attacks.)</p>
<p>***Warning- There is a mildly graphic assault scene in this fic.***</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man in the Leather Jacket

Stiles’ parents had been out on their first date night in months—no one ever wanted to watch Stiles for them because he wasn’t the easiest child to handle. The sheriff’s mother had finally agreed to babysit her energetic grandson for a few hours if the sheriff would help rebuild her front porch during the coming spring. Claudia was thrilled to have a night out with her husband.

On their way home from dinner and a movie, a drunk driver slammed into the side of their car, killing Claudia instantly. The sheriff hung in until the ambulance arrived, but was dead before he reached the hospital. That night, Stiles’ grandmother sat him down for the hardest conversation of his life.

Grandma Stilinski was too fragile to raise Stiles. She tried hard for a good six months before passing him off to his mother’s brother; however, his grandmother maintained legal guardianship. His uncle barely kept Stiles for three months before passing him off to another family member. This is how Stiles spent the next six years of his life: passed around from one family member to another until there was only his Uncle Chuck.

Uncle Chuck lived in Beacon Hills, where Stiles had grown up. Chuck was his father’s youngest brother, only 25 when he took in his 12-year old nephew. It wasn’t a perfect situation, but Chuck was the first person to keep Stiles for more than six months. Chuck was spastic himself, so he understood Stiles’ compulsions and lack of impulse control. Uncle Chuck actually took the time to get to know Stiles and realized how smart Stiles was. They figured out ways to funnel Stiles’ nervous energy into productivity. Stiles’ grades had never been better, and he was finally starting to feel like he had a home again.

Moving in with Chuck was great for another reason: Stiles returned to the Beacon Hills school system. He had only spent kindergarten there, but he remembered two kids from those days: a strawberry blonde girl and a wide-eyed boy. He still knew their names: Lydia and Scott. They had all been in the same kindergarten class and, regrettably, those were the last days Stiles remembered being happy. To his surprise, Scott remembered him as well, and showed him around Beacon Hills Middle School. Lydia claimed to have no idea who he was.

Uncle Chuck never minded having Scott visit, and he never complained about Stiles spending time at the McCalls’ either. So, Scott and Stiles became best friends. Over his first year back in Beacon Hills, Stiles started trusting Scott with secrets he had never told anyone, including why he lives with a 25-year old uncle. Scott’s heart ached for his best friend.

At the end of Stiles’ eighth grade year, the company Uncle Chuck worked for decided to transfer him to their New York branch. Stiles was happy for Chuck, but was unwilling to leave the life he had already built in Beacon Hills. If he was honest, he liked being in the place his parents had raised him. It made him feel closer to them. With no family in Beacon Hills, Stiles had no idea how he could convince anyone to let him stay behind. Stiles was complaining about this very issue to Scott one day, when they were interrupted by an eavesdropping Melissa McCall.

“You really do like it here, don’t you, Stiles?” she asked. Stiles bit the inside of his lip and nodded. “You told me once that your grandmother technically has custody of you, right?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “She’s my legal guardian.”

Melissa nodded. “And, how do you feel about that arrangement?”

“Well, I haven’t seen her in two years. She just sends some money to Uncle Chuck each month for my caretaking. Like the rest of my family, she just couldn’t…” Stiles couldn’t continue. Tears slipped their way down Stiles’ cheeks.

Melissa patted him on the back. “How would you feel about changing that arrangement?” she asked.

“What do you mean? I wouldn’t want Uncle Chuck to be my guardian; then, I’d definitely have to move with him,” Stiles said.

“I wasn’t thinking about your Uncle Chuck,” Melissa clarified.

“No way, mom! Are you serious?” Scott shouted.

Melissa smiled. “I am. Stiles, you’re here more than you’re Uncle Chuck’s anyways. I’m already feeding you most nights. I mean, you and Scott are basically brothers anyway…may as well make it official,” she explained. Then, added, “That is, if you want.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Stiles said.

“I want to, if you want to,” Melissa reiterated.

“You…you want me?” Stiles asked.

Melissa looked at Scott, whose smile stretched from ear to ear, and answered, “Yes. We do.”

***

Derek Hale was ten-years old when he attended the funeral services for Sheriff and Mrs. Stilinski. It was the first funeral he had ever been to. He didn’t understand why the Stilinskis didn’t just wake up. That would have been the best thing for them to do.

A little boy, maybe six-years old, sat in the front row of church pews. Derek felt so sorry for the boy, who wouldn’t stop crying. At the end of the services, the Hales lined up with the rest of the Stilinskis’ family and friends to pay their respects. Derek said “I’m sorry for your loss,” but didn’t really understand what that meant. When he reached the little boy, he found he couldn’t say anything at all. Instead, watching the tears fall down the boy’s face, Derek felt his on throat constricting slightly and noticed the sting of tears in his eyes.

The young boy, Stiles, if Derek had heard right, reached out and grabbed Derek’s hand. Derek squeezed Stiles’ hand and gave him a little smile. Stiles leaned forward and hugged Derek tightly. Derek didn’t know what to do in these situations, but he remembered how his mom patting his back always calmed him. So, that’s what he did.

Stiles pulled away from the hug and grabbed Derek’s hand again. “You have to stay here, now,” Stiles said. “That way, I won’t be sad anymore.” And, to Derek’s surprise, Stiles had stopped crying.

Derek looked to his left and his right. Mrs. Hale said, “Why don’t you stand with him until everyone says their goodbyes?” Derek nodded to her.

He looked at Stiles and said, “Ok, I’ll stay.”

The next day, Mrs. Hale told Derek that Stiles’ grandmother had taken Stiles with her back to San Francisco. Derek felt sad, but he didn’t know why. He would never forget that funeral, though. It was his first experience with death.

His second experience was far worse. Shortly after Derek turned 16, his family home was set on fire. Derek, his sisters Laura and Cora, and his Uncle Peter managed to survive, but the rest of his family didn’t make it. During the funeral, he developed a new understanding of Stiles from a few years before then. He wished he had someone to hold onto, but his girlfriend at the time, Kate, was conveniently absent from the services.

The siblings moved away from their pain and from the constant reminders that they were alone. For years, they moved from city to city, taking odd end jobs and living in small month-to-month apartments. Laura and Cora thrived in the nomadic life, but Derek always longed for a return to Beacon Hills. Somewhere deep down, he always knew he would move back one day.

***

Life with Melissa and Scott wasn’t extravagant. It wasn’t without its problems. But, it was perfect in every way that mattered. Stiles finally had a family again. A loving, caring, and invested family. When Melissa came home from work, she held him accountable for his actions and his grades. If his grades were great with Uncle Chuck, Stiles was blooming into a genius under Melissa’s eye.

On top of that, he had a brother now. He had a brother that he trusted more than he had ever trusted another person. Someone he even trusted with his best-kept secret. The one secret he had never said aloud. A secret he had barely allowed himself to process. They were sixteen when they had the discussion.

“So…brothers love each other no matter what, right?” Stiles asked one day.

“Well, I mean…you refused to change your last name to McCall, so I don’t know that you really get to call me brother,” Scott teased. Stiles flung a pillow at his face. “Ok, ok. Yes, brothers love each other no matter what.”

“Good,” Stiles said. His right leg started bouncing restlessly.

Scott looked at him sideways. “You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s just finish this episode,” Stiles suggested.

Scott looked him in the eyes knowingly. He paused the TV and Dean Winchester’s face was frozen mid-bite of a pizza, staring Death in the face. Stiles thought it spoke well to the situation he was currently in. “You’ve already seen this episode like five times.”

“It’s a good episode,” Stiles said. “Death is one of the coolest characters.”

Scott nodded. “You’re deflecting. What’s up?”

“I…uh…I,” Stiles sighed heavily. He dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t really know where to start.”

“It’s usually easiest to just blurt things out. Then, your mind doesn’t get all wrapped around the endless possibilities that could follow,” Scott said.

“That’s brilliant, dude,” Stiles admitted. Scott shrugged. “You’re right. Yeah. You are. So…uh…here goes.” Stiles took a deep breath. “Some guys like girls, some like guys, and some like both or neither. And I like guys. Only guys. Not girls. Guys all the way. Like…suck-all-of-the-dicks gay.” Stiles dropped his head to his hands again, horrified. “Oh my god. Why did I say that?”

Scott laughed. “Because it was funny…and got the point across,” Scott said.

“It really did, didn’t it?” Stiles said, managing to relax and laugh himself. “So, there it is: I’m gay.”

“Ok,” Scott shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I mean, I know it is for you, and I’m really proud that you told me, but it doesn’t change anything for me. For us. I still love you, and my mom will, too.”

“I know that,” Stiles said. “It’s nice having a real family again.”

Scott leaned over and hugged Stiles, resting his chin on Stiles’ shoulder. “Stiles, I’m really glad you’re my brother,” Scott said.

Stiles squeezed back firmly. “Me too,” Stiles promised.

***

The charred remnants of his childhood became powder under Derek’s feet as he walked through the ruins of the old Hale house. He tried to fight back his tears as the memory of the fire surfaced, but he failed miserably, falling to his knees. The longer the tears flowed out of him, the better he felt, like he was finally removing a weight that had been unknowingly pressing against his heart for years. He was finally grieving for his parents, his aunts and uncles, and his cousins.

Derek knelt there until he had no more tears to cry. As he looked around the burnt living room, he couldn’t help but smile. In the back corner, missing two legs and black from soot, was the desk his mother used when she was managing the family finances. Part of his father’s chair lived on near the front window. A metal bookcase was covered in the ashes of board games and books that he, Laura, and Cora had grown up with. He decided there and then to use part of his inheritance to rebuild the Hale house.

***

“Dude, can you believe we’ve been high school graduates for an entire week?” Scott asked as he and Stiles walked down Main Street.

“In fact, I can. I was there,” Stiles joked.

Scott punched him in the arm. “There’s no need to be a smartass.”

“What can I be if not myself?” Stiles asked.

Scott laughed and asked, “You know what I like about you?” Stiles raised one eyebrow in response. “Absolutely nothing,” Scott teased.

Stiles rolled his eyes. In the process, he noticed perfection in denim jeans across the street. The guy’s muscles threatened to rip apart his white t-shirt. _Who the fuck wears a leather jacket in the summer?_ Stiles thought to himself. The man had haphazardly styled dark hair and a face full of stubble that matched. _There’s something familiar about him._

“You’re drooling,” Scott said.

Stiles barely registered the interruption. Instead, he watched as the mystery man disappeared into the hardware store. His jeans showed off an ass that made Stiles whimper. _Why do I know him?_

“Seriously?” Scott asked. He punched Stiles in the arm again.

“What? He’s perfect,” Stiles replied.

“You don’t even know him. He could be a serial murder or a thief or…I don’t know, a Republican,” Scott claimed.

“I’d let him fuck me even if he were a Republican,” Stiles admitted. “Unless he wanted me to fuck him, I’m good with that, too. I bet he smells really good.” Scott gags exaggeratedly. “Please, Scott. I’ve shared much more about my sexual urges with you.”

“Talk about sex all you want,” Scott said. “I just can’t handle your fawning right now. It’s so…not you.”

“It’s totally me. Do you remember Lydia?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, but you were putting on a show so people didn’t know you were gay. That’s different,” Scott said.

“Where do you think I pulled from? I’m not creative enough to invent an entirely new personality,” Stiles responded. “Besides, I can’t help it. He’s like a walking advertisement for sex.”

“Fine, but if you’re going to develop a crush, we may as well see if he’s at least worth it. Come on,” Scott said, grabbing Stiles by the arm and leading him toward the hardware store.

“We can’t stalk him,” Stiles whispered harshly as they walked into Finstock Hardware.

“It’s not stalking; it’s reconnaissance,” Scott insisted. “I’m not having my brother date a creeper.”

“We’re the creepers,” Stiles pointed out.

“Oh, shut up, Stiles,” Scott said a little too loudly.

“Stiles?” a voice said behind Stiles’ back.

Stiles jumped with a start. He knocked a box of nails off the corner of a shelf, but the man in the leather jacket caught the box before it hit the ground. He smiled at Stiles as he placed the box back on the shelf.

“Do I know you?” Stiles asked.

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember me; you were really young the last time I saw you,” he answered. “You have a unique name, though, and distinguishing moles.”

Stiles couldn’t help blushing. “That’s great and all, but…um…how exactly do you know who I am?”

“Oh, right,” the man said, snapping himself out of some sort of trance. “I’m Derek Hale. Our parents knew each other before…” Derek swallowed.

“You were at the funeral,” Stiles said. Derek nodded. “I do remember you. You made me stop crying.”

Derek shrugged. “I didn’t really do anything.”

“Well, whatever you did worked,” Stiles said.

“When did you move back to Beacon Hills?” Derek asked. “Last I heard, you were living in San Francisco.”

“My grandma didn’t want…I moved around a lot…I…I,” Stiles stopped. His heart was racing. His hands began to tremble with numbness. His chest felt like it was collapsing in upon itself. Stiles grabbed Scott’s arm in a vice grip and clawed at his own chest with his other hand. “Scott…I…I can’t…”

“Asthma or panic?” Scott asked. Stiles squeezed his arm twice. “Panic?” Stiles nodded. “Ok, try to control your breathing. Nice and slow. Breath with me, Stiles,” Scott instructed, inhaling slowly and letting the air out gradually.

Stiles’ breathing only worsened. Scott pulled Stiles down into a kneeling position and rubbed soft circles into Stiles’ back. “Come on, man, you have to calm down,” Scott pleaded, fearfully.

Derek pushed Scott aside and grabbed Stiles by the shoulders. “Don’t hate me for this,” he said before kissing Stiles.

Stiles was so shocked when Derek’s tongue entered his mouth that he stopped breathing. All of his thoughts about abandonment vanished and he focused on the pressure of Derek’s mouth against his. Stiles wasn’t sure how long they kissed before Scott cleared his throat.

“Uh…panic attack averted…brother now adequately uncomfortable,” Scott said.

“Sorry,” Derek said, abruptly moving away from Stiles. “I…uh…it was good to see you again, Stiles.”

Stiles just nodded, still unsure of what just happened. He watched as Derek fumbled his way out of the hardware store. He turned his head and saw Scott staring at him questioningly.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“How did that work? How did he know you were gay?” Scott asked.

“I don’t think he knew I was gay, hints the whole ‘don’t hate me’ warning,” Stiles explained. “And, I guess it worked because it distracted me. My thoughts stopped spiraling out of control, so there was nothing to panic about.” Stiles dropped his head into his hands. “Oh, god. Now, he’s never going to be with me. Who wants to be with someone after seeing that?”

“Uh…did you miss the whole making out part?” Scott asked. “I’m pretty sure he was into it.”

“You’re delusional,” Stiles countered.

“We’ll see,” Scott said.

***

Derek sat the stain he had bought at Finstock’s at the foot of the stairs. Finally, after two years of working on the house, only staining the steps and railing was left. He walked up to his bedroom and flopped face-first onto his bed. _That was one of the scariest things I’ve seen in years. Why did it affect me so much?_ Derek wondered.

He thought about the funeral, how Stiles crying back then had made him cry, too. He remembered being sad when Stiles moved away. _Why does this boy have over me?_ Derek pondered. _He is cute, though. God, those moles. I’d like to kiss every single one. Too bad I don’t have a reason to see him again. I don’t even know where he lives._ Derek sighed and fell asleep.

***

Stiles had a fantastic time celebrating his 19th birthday at Jungle. Scott and a few of their friends from high school joined him. While he was dancing, he got really hot and decided to take a step outside to cool down. Scott was in the restroom, but Stiles was only going to be a minute; he didn’t bother waiting for Scott.

The cool night air was just what Stiles needed. It helped clear his liquor-tainted mind and brought his body temperature down a bit. Stiles saw a black leather jacket walking away from him in his peripheral. He could just make out spikey hair in the darkness. _Derek!_ he thought. Stiles followed the leather jacket as it rounded the corner of the building into the alley.

“Derek!” Stiles called out excitedly, but it wasn’t Derek who turned to face him.

The man’s face was nothing like Derek’s. His face was much rounder and he had a fuller beard. His eyes were set back too far into his head.

“Who’s Derek? You’re little boyfriend?” the man said harshly.

_Oh, shit,_ Stiles thought. “My bad, man. I’m just going to head back in there.”

“You little queers disgust me,” the man said. Before Stiles could take one step toward safety, the man charged him. He slammed Stiles against a brick wall. His hand gripped Stiles’ throat tightly, cutting off Stiles’ air supply. “You’re filthy,” he said slamming a fist into Stiles’ side. Stiles’ wasn’t capable of screaming. “Unnatural.” This time he punched Stiles’ stomach. “Immoral.” Another gut-punch.

He released his hold on Stiles’ throat. Stiles slid down the wall, moaning loudly and cradling his stomach. The man kicked Stiles between the legs, a groan escaping Stiles’ throat. Stiles fell to his side.

“Can’t fuck your boyfriend tonight now, can you?” the man jeered. The man picked up a trash from across the alley and dumped its contents over Stiles, tossing it to the side. “I thought I’d put all of the trash together. Feel at home yet?” He placed a hard kick to Stiles’ side and Stiles felt at least one of his ribs break. He screamed out in pain. “There you go, you little bitch. Cry out for me. He picked up the discarded trash can and threw it at Stiles, hitting Stiles’ upper thigh.

Stiles’ chest felt like it was being compressed. His breathing became sharp and he couldn’t get enough air. He fumbled uselessly at his pockets to find his inhaler, but remembered leaving it at home. _This is where I’m going to die_ , he thought.

“Are you having a hard time breathing?” the man asked. “Maybe another kick to the…”

Stiles watched as someone’s fist collided with his attacker’s face. His attacker screamed in a mixture of pain and frustration. He tried to fight off the assault of punches against him, but was completely unsuccessful.

The next thing Stiles knew, the man in the leather jacket was approaching him again. Stiles twitched back in fear, his breaths becoming more frantic. Stiles’ vision was blacking out at the corners. The man held his arms out in front of him and slowed his approach. As he got closer, Stiles could tell that it was Derek. _I’m not going to die. Derek’s here now,_ Stiles thought.

“Stiles, where’s your inhaler?” Derek asked.

“Scott,” was all Stiles could manage. _Scott has an inhaler, too._

“I’ll be right back. That asshole is out cold; you’ll be fine,” Derek said before hoping up and running toward the Jungle entrance. “Hang in there,” he shouted over his shoulder.

***

Derek ran into Jungle. _If the doormen didn’t know me, I’d be thrown right back out,_ he thought. He found Scott in a panic.

“Stiles got attacked in the alley and is having a severe asthma attack. I think he was trying to tell me you have his inhaler,” Derek blurted out quickly.

“What?” Scott asked.

Derek exhales loudly. “Just…do you have Stiles’ inhaler or not?”

Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out an inhaler. “It’s mine, but it will work on Stiles, too,” Scott said. Derek grabbed it and ran back outside. He barely registered Scott shouting after him, “You have to shake it up.”

When Derek reached Stiles again, Stiles was gasping for air. Derek pressed the inhaler to his mouth and said, “Breath,” as he pressed down on the inhaler. Stiles’ breathing became less-labored, but he was still struggling. Derek shook the inhaler again. Stiles grabbed his wrist.

“Have to…wait,” Stiles managed, his voice garbled.

“Ok,” Derek said. “Just squeeze my wrist when you can do it again. Don’t try to talk.”

While he waited, Derek scanned over Stiles’ body. There were red marks around his throat where someone had likely choked him. The way Stiles’ right hand was cradling his left side, there was clearly damage to his spleen or a rib. Derek pushed off all of the pieces of trash he could reach.

_I could kill the asshole who did this to you_ , Derek thought. _I don’t even know where I can touch you and not hurt you._ It was an honest thought. With his clothes on, Derek couldn’t tell which parts of his body were safe to touch.

Derek felt a hand squeeze his wrist. He placed the inhaler to Stiles lips. Stiles bit down on it and took another puff from it. This time, the inhaler seemed to do the trick. The only side effect was that Stiles’ asthma attack was no longer stopping his pain-fueled moans. The sound of sirens broke through the air.

“Scott must have called 911,” Derek said. “You’re going to be ok, now.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said, his voice just above a whisper. “I thought…” Stiles started to cry.

Derek placed his palm against the side of Stiles’ face. “You’re safe now. I promise. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Stiles’ eyes closed and he nodded slowly. He sniffled loudly. “I know,” he whimpered.

“What happened, Derek?” Scott asked as he walked around the corner.

“I don’t know. I was walking out of the diner and heard someone scream. Some guy was attacking another guy. I threw the first punch before I realized he was attacking Stiles. I don’t know what happened before I got here, though.”

“Why would anyone…” Scott wondered aloud. “I went to the bathroom, came back, and he was gone. I never should have left him alone. It’s my job to protect him,” Scott said, tears spilling out of his eyes.

Derek looked up at Scott. “You can’t blame yourself, Scott. There was no way you knew this would happen.”

“He’s my brother, Derek,” Scott said. “I…mom’s going to…”

Scott must have seen Stiles’ attacker lying unconscious behind Derek because he jumped over Derek and charged. Derek stood up quickly and wrapped his arms around Scott from behind, pinning Scott’s arms in place.

“He’s already out and I promise he paid for it,” Derek said. “We need to take care of Stiles.”

The ambulance and a police car finally pulled up to the alley entrance and the EMTs jumped out. They looked over Stiles quickly. They put him on a stretcher and asked who was riding along.

“Both,” Stiles said, grabbing for Derek’s hand again.

“We can only take one,” the EMT told him.

“It’s ok, Stiles,” Derek said. “I’ll meet you at the hospital, ok?”

“No, you go with him, Derek,” Scott argued. “Look, he’s calmer around you. You should go. Just make sure my mom knows what’s going on when you get there. Her name is Melissa.”

“Ok,” Derek said, jumping into the ambulance and grabbing Stiles’ outstretched hand.

“Melissa McCall?” The EMT asked.

“Yeah, that’s my mom,” Scott answered.

The EMT looked around. “Jump in.”

“Are you sure?” Scott asked.

“Go,” the EMT ordered.

***

Stiles injuries were listed in a chart at the foot of his bed: two broken ribs, three more bruised, ruptured spleen, minor vocal cord paresis, severe abdominal bruising, and a laceration to the upper thigh. The doctors had already performed the splenectomy. He was on a continuous supply of pain relievers and instructed to talk as little as possible. Scott told him the sheriff’s department had locked up his attacker.

The circumstances would have seemed grim to almost anyone else. Stiles managed to maintain a positive attitude, though. After all, he was alive and most of his injuries would be gone within two months. _Derek hasn’t left my side in three days,_ Stiles thought, a smile reaching his lips.

“You seem to be handling all of this fairly well,” Derek said.

“Pain meds,” Stiles whispered.

“Hey, no talking,” Derek replied. He rubbed his hand up and down Stiles’ forearm.

They shared a lot of small touches over the last three days. Stiles made sure to memorize each and every touch. Derek took care to make sure Stiles followed the rules, but that just made Stiles want to break them even more. He liked the caring side of Derek.

“I haven’t for days,” Stiles said. “Hard for me.” Stiles tried to shorten all of his sentences, because it did hurt to talk.

Derek smiled. “Why don’t we play a game, then? I’ll ask a question, but you have to give me a one-word answer. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Stiles answered.

“Ok. We’ll start off easy. What’s your favorite food?” Derek asked.

_Curly fries_. “Curlies,” Stiles answered.

“As in curly fries?” Derek followed up.

“Yes,” Stiles said.

“What’s your favorite movie?” Derek asked.

_Star Wars._ “Yoda,” Stiles replied.

“Empire Strikes back or Return of the Jedi?” Derek asked.

“All,” Stiles answered.

Derek smiled. “Easy questions are fun and all, but…” Derek took a deep breath. “How bad is the pain?”

_Better when you’re distracting me_. “Eight,” Stiles said.

Derek closed his eyes. “Then why do you seem so ok?”

“Alive,” Stiles answered.

“You thought you were going to die?” Derek asked, his voice catching.

Stiles nodded. “Sincerely.”

“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Stiles,” Derek said. “I wish I had gotten there sooner.”

“Not your fault,” Stiles responded.

“Hey, the one-word rule includes all talking!” Derek insisted.

Stiles glared at him mockingly. “Blameless,” he said.

Derek shrugged. “Let’s get back to the game. Do you have a girlfriend?” Derek asked.

_He thinks I’m straight_ , Stiles frowned. _No, I don’t have a girlfriend. Why would I let you touch me if I had a girlfriend, silly?_ “Gay,” Stiles answered.

“Oh,” Derek said, blushing. “Boyfriend?”

_No, but I know who I’d like to date._ “Interested,” Stiles answered.

“Oh,” Derek replied, turning away. “What’s he like?”

“Hot,” Stiles said.

“And?” Derek asked, still not looking at Stiles.

“Caring.”

“And?”

“Protective.”

“And?”

“You,” Stiles answered, cheeks reddening.

“What?” Derek asked.

“You,” Stiles repeated, interlocking his fingers with Derek’s.

“Reallly?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded. “What if I told you I was interested, too?”

_I’d think I was dreaming._ “Kiss,” Stiles said.

Derek smiled. He leaned down and kissed Stiles on the forehead. Stiles reached up and grabbed the sides of Derek’s face, pulling Derek down to his mouth. Stiles winced as he caused Derek’s elbow to braise his stomach, but he didn’t stop kissing Derek.

“What does this mean?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know yet,” Stiles answered.

“Hey! One word answers,” Derek reminded him.

“Just kiss me, again,” Stiles ordered, and Derek didn’t dare disobey.

“Oops! Sorry,” Scott said as he walked into the room and quickly exited again. He leaned his head back in. “Hurt him and you’ll be the one in the hospital bed.” He walked out again before Derek could answer.

***

One year later, Derek and Stiles visited their parents’ gravesites together at the Beacon Hills cemetery. Derek felt the soft pressure of Stiles’ hand against his, which steadied him. Derek knelt down and placed a vase of roses in front of his parents’ headstone.

“They would be so proud of the man you’ve become,” Stiles said.

“I hope so,” Derek admitted. “I think they would like that I rebuilt the house.”

“It’s a good tribute to their memory,” Stiles agreed.

After a few moments of silence, Derek said, “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Ok,” Stiles said. “I think I’m finally ready to do this.”

Derek hadn’t known that Stiles had never visited his parents’ grave until a few days ago. That’s why he suggested they take the trip here today. It was their one-year anniversary, and it just seemed like a way for him and Stiles to get closer.

He let Stiles lead him across the cemetery to the Stilinski family lot—Stiles had looked up the location beforehand. When they reached the headstone, Derek stepped behind Stiles, rested his chin on Stiles’ shoulder, and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist. He squeezed his boyfriend tightly.

“Is it weird if I talk to them?” Stiles asked.

“Not at all,” Derek answered. _I do it all of the time._ “It helps.”

Stiles nodded slowly. “Hey, Dad. Mom,” Stiles voice caught. He sniffled quietly. “Sorry I haven’t been to see you before. It’s always seemed too hard. But, now I have the McCalls and Derek to make it easier.” He took a deep breath. “This is Derek by the way. The Hales’ son. He’s…well, we love each other very much. I don’t think I could do this without him.”

Derek squeezed Stiles even tighter. Stiles hands gripped Derek’s forearms until they started to turn white. Derek could feel Stiles’ breathing becoming strained. He slipped a hand into the pocket of his leather coat and pulled out an inhaler. He shook it a few times and held it up to Stiles’ mouth. Stiles took the puff and turned around to face Derek. He buried his face into Derek’s shoulder and allowed himself to cry.

Derek rubbed large circles into Stiles’ back. “It’s ok; let it out,” Derek encouraged him. “You’ll feel better after the tears are gone.” _I did anyways._

Derek held on firmly as his boyfriend cried for at least a half hour. As Stiles finished, they sat side by side on the ground in front of the Stilinskis’ headstone. Stiles nudged Derek with his elbow.

“What?” Derek asked.

“Where did you get an inhaler?” Stiles wondered aloud.

“I may or may not have bought a box of them and put them in all of my coats, my car, and in drawers all around my house,” Derek admitted. “That’s a little creepy, right?”

“No!” Stiles disagreed. “It’s, possibly, the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you for bringing me here. I feel…lighter.”

“You’re finally dealing with this,” Derek explained.

Stiles nodded. “I know; I wouldn’t have come here if you hadn’t asked.”

“I love you,” Derek said.

Stiles smiled. “I love you, too.”

Derek fished around his coat pocket until he felt cool metal. He rubbed it between his fingers a few times. _You can do this_ , he told himself. _You guys are ready for this._ He pulled it out of his pocket and held it out to Stiles.

“What’s this?” Stiles asked.

_Breathe._ “It’s a key to the house,” Derek said. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I was hoping you might want to officially move in with me. I mean, you’re there most of the time anyway. And I figured it makes more sense to.”

“Yes,” Stiles interrupted. He took the key from Derek and kissed him. “Of course, I want to.”

*** 50 Years Later***

“Gampa, gampa! Hold me,” Spencer begged as he held his arms toward Stiles.

Stiles picked up his grandson and held him on his right side. “There you go, buddy.”

“Where Papaw?” Spencer asked.

“Papaw is making you a surprise in the kitchen,” Stiles answered. “You eat dog treats, right?”

“Noooo!” Spencer laughed. “I wike ice cweem.”

“You wike ice cweem?” Stiles teased. “I don’t know if we have any ice cweem.”

Spencer frowned.

“Did I hear someone say ice cweem?” Derek asked as he entered the living room with two bowls of vanilla ice cream.

“Papaw!” Spencer called out. “You bringed ice cweem!”

“Only if you’ve been good for Grandpa,” Derek said.

“I have. I wuv gampa!” Spencer said.

“I love gampa, too,” Derek agreed. He kissed Spencer on the forehead and then kissed Stiles.

Derek and Stiles sat close together on the couch and Spencer nudged his way between them. Derek and Stiles took turns sharing their ice cream with their grandson. They were nearly done when Stiles’ phone rang.

“Hey, Scott,” Stiles answered.

“Hey. Allison and I are taking Zoey to the park while the kids are out at the movies. We were wondering if you and Derek wanted to pick up Spencer and join us,” Scott said.

“We already have Spencer,” Stiles told him. “Claudia and Michael are out on a date as well.” Stiles turned to Spencer. “Do you want to go to the park with Zoey?”

Spencer’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “I wuv the pawk.”

“We’ll be there,” Stiles told Scott.

“See you in 10?” Scott asked.

“Works for us,” Stiles answered before hanging up.

“Scott?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, you don’t mind do you?” Stiles asked

Derek laughed. “Let me think, I get to go spend time with my grandson and the love of my life…I don’t mind at all.”

“I love you,” Stiles said.

“I love you,” Derek repeated.

“I wuv you boff,” Spencer said.

Stiles laughed. “And we love you.”


End file.
